


Valentine's Ball

by ValerieKB



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crimes, Dancing, M/M, Masks, Masquerade, Mystrade Valentines Calendar 2018, greg is done with sherlock, heavy grinding, john is sick and sherlock has no one to go investigate with, mycroft holmes is sneaky, sherlock only shows up for a minute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 14:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValerieKB/pseuds/ValerieKB
Summary: When John becomes sick, Sherlock calls upon Greg to help him investigate and drags him to a Valentine's day ball. But of course, Sherlock being Sherlock runs away, leaving Greg to tend for himself. It seems like an awfully long and boring night is in store, but all changes when Greg get's a masqued man's attention.





	Valentine's Ball

The ballroom was humongous. Greg walked over to the handrail, taking in the hum of the room. Below him, people were dancing, a live jazz band was playing on a small stage to the side of the dance floor, and there was a bar area with a tower of vintage champagne glasses filled to the brim. Everyone was masked - some masks resembled animals, others were more classic looking. The women wore flapper dresses, with feathers in their hair, dancing and mingling with each other and the Gatsby-like clothed men. The hundreds of lit candles only served to enhance the mystery and charm of the place. He felt out of place in such grandeur, but the mask eased his uncertainty. 

“Come on Gavin, drug dealers won’t wait forever,” whispered Sherlock, pulling Greg by the sleeve down the stairs. The two were caught in the hustle of the people, and soon, Greg found himself alone in the middle of the crowd. 

Wondering for the thousandth time why he agreed to help Sherlock, Greg fought his way through towards the bar, where he grabbed a champagne glass. He then made his way over to the side, watching people dance. 

“If I’m here, I might as well try to enjoy myself,” he thought, taking a sip. The bubbly drink felt pleasantly cool in his mouth. 

“Good evening, sir. May I enquire as to why such a dashing gentleman seems to be alone at a function like this?” A deep voice sounded to his right. 

Greg turned around, freezing with the champagne glass halfway to his mouth. The man currently talking to him was gorgeous - tall, mysterious, yet radiating power and dominance. He seemed to be fully in control, but at the same time completely at ease. His pinstriped suit and tie matched the fox mask he was wearing, and the colour accentuated the grey blue of his eyes. Shakily exhaling, Greg quickly placed the glass onto a nearby table. 

“My company ran away to do more exciting things than spend time with me,” the DI replied, scratching his neck out of embracement. 

“Oh,” the handsome stranger sighed, a little bit disappointed, if Greg’s eyes weren’t lying to him. “I guess you’ll want to wait for your partner to arrive then?” 

If Greg had champagne in his mouth, he would have spit it out. 

“You must have misunderstood, Sherlock’s not my partner. In fact, he’s taken. I was just dragged into this because his date got sick.”

The fox masked man straightened and shot Greg a thousand watt smile. 

“Then perhaps, you’d like to dance?” 

Greg took the outstretched hand and allowed himself to be lead on the dance floor. The man placed his hand on Greg’s waist, and led the two in a slow paced dance. They circled around the floor to the tune of the jazz band. Each time the melody changed, they took half a step closer, their eyes never parting. Soon, their bodies were a distance of a breath away, and each could almost feel the other’s heart beat. The song changed into something something more seductive and quick paced, and Greg decided to take action. 

He turned the handsome stranger around, placing his hand on the man’s waist and taking the man’s free hand into his own free one. Their hips were almost flush against each other, and the DI could feel the heat radiating off of the man’s back and backside. The stranger let out a wavering breath, and Greg chose that moment to lean into the man’s neck, although the height difference made it a little uncomfortable. Fox-mask could feel Greg’s breath on his neck, and threw his head back, letting out a barely audible moan. 

The knowledge that Greg was the cause of this powerful men giving up his power like that made the DI think twice about the placement of his hips, but as he felt the stranger’s bum brush on his crotch once, twice and then come fully in contact with his front, he allowed himself to give into the temptation and merge flush with the man’s derriere. 

The two men groaned at the contact in unison, and let their bodies take over. They moved from side to side, exchanging breaths, slowly grinding into each other, giving into the more carnal urges that they ignited in each other. 

As the evening drew to a close, they were the last ones dancing. Out of breath and looking completely debauched, they finally turned around to face each other again. It took one look into each other’s eyes, and the fire that the two saw in reflected in them took over. Suddenly, their lips were mingling together in a passionate, wet kiss, hands roaming over backs and twisting in each other’s hair. Their mouths opened, letting each other’s tongues in, to map out uncharted territory and memorise all textures and tastes that they could. The stranger let out a whimper, which only spurred Greg on in their tongue’s battle for dominance, and the DI decided to use his secret weapon. He quickly touched the man’s tongue with his, and then took hold of the stranger’s lower lip, gliding his front teeth over the plump lip. 

The stranger’s knees almost gave out and a moan rang out in the silence of the room, neither of the men registering who let it out. The man’s fox mask was dislodged, and as they separated and opened their eyes, Greg took in the appearance of the man. The grey blue eyes staring back at him with a heated gaze were oddly familiar. The shape of the nose and mouth also, but the wrinkle on the forehead, obstructed from view before by the mask was the one that gave the identity of the man away. Greg, eyes wide, scrambled for words. 

“M-m-mycroft?”


End file.
